


The Supernatural Diaries: Triggering the Curse

by Annehiggins



Category: Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: AU fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Posted to Live Journal March 7, 2011.</p>
<p>In which Dean is forced to bring the family curse down on his head, and Damon finds a better distraction than random killings. WARNING: Dean is 3 months short of his 18th birthday!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Supernatural Diaries: Triggering the Curse

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU fusion of the two shows with Dean's 'job' somewhat inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This does assume the reader is familiar with both SPN and TVD (although I did my best to make it otherwise without making it boring for those who are.)

  
**The Supernatural Diaries:  
Triggering the Curse**  
By Anne Higgins

Dean Winchester died a few weeks into his junior year of high school. Or not. Depended on whether or not one viewed curses in a glass-half-full or half-empty way. Dean tended to go with half-empty so he'd done his best to live in denial despite all the freaking shit going on in Mystic Falls. And his best was damned good, so he'd made it all the way to the night of the Halloween carnival with both feet planted firmly on the human-side of the Hunter's Curse.

Trust Vicki Donavon to screw things up. He'd hated the bitch for more than a year. Never had much use for any junkie – figured if he could keep it together with the crapfest life had dealt him, so could they – but last summer she'd flirted with drowning her self-loathing by encouraging his thirteen year-old brother's crush to a 'let's continue this in the bedroom' level. Before they could get there, Dean had slammed her up against the nearest wall and promised to snap her perverted, skanky neck if he so much as caught her in the same room with Sammy ever again. She'd gotten the message and turned her attentions to Jeremy Gilbert. Still too young for her, but Dean had figured it was up to Elena to protect her own baby brother from drug dealers and sexual predators. Wasn't Dean's problem she'd done a lousy job of it.

Yeah, denial. Hell, the fucking pyramids had come into view since school started and the Salvatore brothers hit town. But much as Dean wanted to put a stop to a growing pile of shit, he'd seriously not wanted to spend the rest of his life stuck at the annoying age of seventeen. Enter a vamped-up (in the fangy, not sexy sort of way) Vicki, and fuck. Just his freaking luck that he'd decided he'd needed a break from all the noise at the same time she'd gone on a rampage in the school bus parking lot.

Dean had barely stepped through the door when he saw Elena go flying into the dumpster. For a moment he'd thought he'd gotten a reprieve when Stefan Salvatore charged to the rescue and Vicki took off. Except Stefan made the tactical error of sending Elena and Jeremy running toward the school entrance and the illusion of safety.

The rest happened in a blur. Vicki caught them before they could get inside and threw Jeremy aside. Elena screamed as fangs pierced her neck and … Dean would always wonder if Stefan could have reached her in time, but Dean was closer and instincts he'd fought for two months kicked in. He didn't even know when he'd picked up the shard of wood, but one moment Vicki went for the kill and the next Dean shoved a make-shift stake through her heart.

Jeremy started screaming her name – Vicki's not his sister's because the kid had lost all sense of priorities – but Stefan had showed up in time to grab him before the kid could get too close to the bitch's death throes. In that moment Dean had never hated anyone more than he hated Vicki Donovan. All he could do not to kick her as she dried up and died.

His own transformation made his stomach heave and moving seemed a really bad idea, so he opted for nothing more than standing there with the bloody stake in his hands while Elena told Stefan to get her brother out of here. For a moment Stefan's eyes met Dean's and he supposed the vampire saw something in his gaze to make him think it was safe to go, but he pulled out his cell phone as he half-carried Jeremy away. Dean heard him say, "I need your help," then he was gone, leaving Dean alone with Elena and Vicki's corpse.

Clutching her injuries Elena sank to her knees beside Vicki and cried softly. While not exactly friends, Dean and Elena were neighbors and had always been on friendly terms and he wanted to comfort her, but the guilt at knowing he could have prevented this kept him still and silent until Damon Salvatore showed up.

He didn't even glance at Dean as he practically sauntered over to Elena and announced, "You should go. I've got this." Bad move given the look of loathing she turned on the vampire.

"You did this," she hissed, rising. "This is your fault."

Taking nonchalance to new heights, he answered, "You confuse me for someone with remorse."

Eyes flashing with fury Elena tried to shove him, but only succeeded in ruffling his jacket. Obviously not satisfied, she went for the classic slap across the face, but Damon grabbed her wrist mid-swing. "None of this matters to me," he said. "None of it."

Something must have mattered since he released her instead of ripping her throat out for daring to attack him. "People die around you," she raged. "How could it not matter? It matters and you know it."

Maybe he did, because Elena's next slap connected.

He gave her a cold look that alarmed Dean enough to somehow chase away his nausea. Good to know he could move without vomiting all over everything, but he held his position. Damon looked pissed, but not ready to attack and Dean saw no reason to provoke him into doing precisely that. Because theory aside, he didn't want to test his genetic memory on an angry vampire until he'd had time to process.

"Hmm," Damon murmured still failing to stare her down and something about him said he found it intriguing. Even if he was obviously ticked. Finally he said, "You need to leave. Your wounds are bleeding, and you need. To. Leave."

The reminder that she was oozing blood around a vampire got her moving and she hurried off toward student parking.

Damon knelt beside the corpse, stared at it for a moment with another humming sound, then he finally looked up at Dean with those eyes that had captivated him weeks ago. "And you are?"

How nice to know he'd made a similar impression. But he saw no point in lying. Small town, one high school and he had classes with both Elena and Stefan. "Dean Winchester. And I should have staked your ass in September."

The vampire turned the same intrigued look he'd given to Elena on him. "Why didn't you?"

He flushed with anger, more at himself than Damon. "Because I didn't want to be stuck at 17 for fucking forever!" Like all the big curses, the Hunter version required causing a death to give it a kick-start. Theoretically, Dean could have lived his whole life without ever getting his … superpowers. But now he had them and an age fixed in proverbial stone.

"Ah, so you popped your cherry tonight." Damon smirked, obviously finding himself hilarious. "So baby hunter, we going to fight?"

Dean's empty fist clenched while the other hand tightened on the stake. He wanted to. Should. But, while he had more faults than anyone had time to count, he'd never numbered being a hypocrite among them. Beyond the vampire's first two victims, he figured not going after him immediately made Dean as responsible for the rest as Damon. Maybe more so since he'd ignored his duty while the vampire had simply followed his baser nature. He shook his head. "Not in the mood to stake myself afterwards."

If Damon got the reason behind Dean's negative response, he showed no sign of it. Instead he said, "So no epic showdown tonight."

There was a mocking tone to his words that made Dean bristle, so he snapped, "But after this all bets are off."

Amusement sparkled in the vampire's eyes. Damn, those eyes. "Then I suppose it's a good thing I've decided to keep a low profile from now on, isn't it?"

"Peachy," he muttered, disgusted with the whole mess, but he couldn't manage to shift all his ire away from Vicki to the vampire Elena had implied had turned her. "Pretty fucking stupid choosing a loser with no self-control."

Damon's eyes narrowed, his former amusement vanishing, but he didn't attack. Dean assumed some sort of weird-assed bond had kept the vampire from tearing Elena to shreds. Not a protection Dean shared. Then again, both Damon and he knew that thanks to Vicki – all mocking aside -- Dean had become a serious threat to him, making an attack a very bad idea. Instead Damon sighed, "I was bored."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Awesome. I'm a teenager for life because you couldn't find anything good on cable? Ever hear of Netflix, dude?"

The corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile, then Damon picked up the corpse. "Stefan manages it all right," he said. He smirked. "And you're a hell of a lot prettier than he is."

What? Before he could say another word, Damon used his vamp speed and vanished, dead bitch and all. Super.

*

Damon buried the corpse in a ravine near the creek. Never really cared for garbage duty, especially when it made him wallow in his mistakes, but he'd finished with sloppy kills to mess with Stefan. At least during this stay. Keeping with the refuse analogy, he dropped the body with all the care of a trash bag.

He seriously doubted anyone but the bitch's brother and Elena's pathetic love-struck brother would miss her, so no real harm or foul there, but he hadn't liked what Elena had said. Or the hunter with oh, so pretty eyes. Unfortunate that things had escalated to the point he'd ended up with the closest thing there was to a supernatural cop on his proverbial doorstep. Could make his plans within plans … difficult. He sighed, pushing thoughts of the hunter out of his mind and focused on Elena. 

Greater goals aside, his main amusement in life was to make his annoying brother miserable, but Damon hadn't cared for the collateral damage this time. Not because he gave a crap about people dying – hey, how many humans cared about the cow when they were stuffing themselves with a cheeseburger? – but for some highly inconvenient reason, he found himself annoyed that he'd disappointed the girl.

While he dug the grave, he told himself it must be because she looked like Katherine, but she was nothing like his long-lost love. He remained uncertain whether this was a good or bad thing, but he did know getting friendly with his brother's new girlfriend would drive Stefan nuts.

Deciding that gave him a good enough reason to try and make amends, he finished with the grave and headed back into town.

*

Sam Winchester took a sip of his punch, then wrinkled his nose. "That's just nasty, dude," he said scowling at his best friend.

Andy Gallagher laughed. "You're such a light-weight," he teased, then all but choked on his. "Crap, what did they put in this?"

"Fuel oil would be my guess," Sam said, dropping his cup into a nearby trash can. That was the trouble with school parties – an hour in and it was impossible to find something free of the contents of a half a dozen flasks. Nasty. Didn't stop most from drinking it, but Sam had watched his dad drink himself to death, so downing some rank punch to get hammered wasn't his thing. Besides, Dean would kill him. Which left him Mr. Buzz Kill as far as his friends were concerned. Sam didn't take it personally since most of them were quickly too drunk to know which way was up let alone have a valid opinion.

But he'd really had enough of this carnival. Too much flash and noise. And his scarecrow costume itched. He was about to start the half-hour walk home when his phone beeped. _Had enough going home_

He texted back, _Ditto meet you at car,_ and muttered a half-assed excuse, knowing no one would remember what he'd said anyway. What was it about this town anyway? Everyone was always drunk, drugged or sexed-up by the time they hit their sophomore year. Dean insisted it was a typical high school scene. Seemed more like living in a town-sized frat house to Sam. He'd even asked Grandma about it once. She'd said something about energy vibrations surrounding Mystic Falls that encouraged rapid maturity – young and helpless didn't survive long in these parts. Made sense given everyone went from middle school to looking like college kids. Pity it seemed to apply only to the physical side of things. Far as he could tell, it magnified the teenaged-crap which didn't seem too survival smart to him, but he lacked a better theory. And he had been growing like crazy since his last birthday. Be as tall as Dean if it kept up and that could only be a good thing.

He found the big brother in question sitting on the hood of the Impala. A typical sight, but something seemed … off. He looked kind of hunched in on himself. Sam didn't like it, so he said, "Admit it, you love that car more than me."

Dean gave him a long look, then he hopped off the car with the usual 'I'm so dashing' air. "Ah, Sammy, don't be jealous, you're still my favorite sister."

"Jerk," Sam glowered.

"In the car, bitch," Dean told him. "I've had my fill of Halloween for this year."

Letting Dean's normal irritating behavior soothe him, Sam pushed aside any deep thoughts. But tomorrow? Tomorrow he was going to find out what was wrong with his brother. One way or another.

*

Dean lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling until after midnight. He and Sammy had grabbed a pizza on the way home, then ended things with their usual 'bitch-jerk' exchange and a quick hug before calling it a night. The routine let his brother get to sleep, but Dean could tell it wasn't something he'd be doing any time soon.

Finally he got up and walked over to his closet. For several minutes he stood there staring at the leather jacket hanging inside. It had been Dad's and Dean had always thought it would be his someday. But now he'd never grow those last few inches to the height and shoulder width he'd need for it to fit right. He took it out, enjoying the softness and the smell that would always remind him of his father.

He worried his lower lip and wondered if he should give the jacket to Sam. Be a few years before Sammy grew into it. Would give him time to lose some of his anger over Dad's death. Time to remember that, broken as Mom's death had left him, John Winchester had loved his sons very much. He sighed, wishing yet again Sam could remember what their parents had been like before all the shit, but Mom had been killed when Sammy was only six-months old. Having only been four himself, Dean had fought hard to hold on to his few precious memories of love and laughter, had fought to remember something beyond the blood and flames.

A shudder swept through him and, telling himself he was cold, he pulled the jacket on. He knew it made him look like a little kid wearing his father's clothes, but it felt warm and Dad seemed near. Strange to draw comfort from the illusion of a parent who had never known what a hunter was, let alone that the curse infected the Campbell line.

Tired of the confines of his room, he made his way downstairs. He'd have loved to get a beer, but he'd given up indulging in underaged drinking when Dad had died two years after they'd lost Mom's Mom. Partly because he didn't want to end up like Dad – burying pain in a bottle until it killed him – but mostly he knew if he made one wrong move he could lose custody of his little brother. Dean had gotten himself declared an emancipated minor three days after his sixteenth birthday. Dad had still been alive at the time, just so far gone he couldn't be relied on to take care of things like bills or putting meals on the table. Could have caused family services trouble, but everyone in town had pretty much known Dean had been handling all of that since he was eight and Grandma had gotten too sick to get out of bed. So they'd given Dean his declaration and not take Sam away even after Dad was gone, too.

Fortunately, money wasn't an issue – the Campbell's weren’t as wealthy as the other founding families of Mystic Falls, but, as long as they kept the spending firmly in the middle class comfort zone, he and Sam had inherited enough from Grandma to keep things going for at least Sam's lifetime. Plus they owned the Impala and the house – which had been in the family for decades -- outright. So, for now, Sammy got to stay with him, but one wrong move and that could change fast. And, yeah, Dean had gone on a no-booze diet until he turned 21. Made him feel a little like an outsider at parties, but mostly his friends understood and didn't push it. Not that he had many friends, and he wasn't really close to those he had. Between having to play man of the house and the curse hanging over his head, Dean hadn't had much time for teenage shit.

He sighed, pulled a box of chocolate milk out of the fridge and headed for the porch. The house had one of those big, wrap-around deals, and Dean had always loved it. He settled on the old-fashioned porch swing, stuck the straw into the drink box, and took a sip. He also spotted the vampire lurking across the street in the shadows of the Gilbert's house. Stefan or Damon? Act of love or guilt? Even money either way, but Damon might mean to provoke their postponed fight and he was so not in the mood.

To his relief Stefan Salvatore walked across the street, then leaned against the railing a few feet from where Dean sat. Everything about his posture screamed 'I don't want trouble.' Fine by Dean. After a few minutes, Stefan broke the silence, "Jeremy won't remember what happened tonight."

Mind compulsion never sat well with Dean in the particular way someone judged something they never had to worry about. Hunters, even ones not yet cursed, had a natural immunity to the power. On the other hand, he could pretty much guess what had happened. "Elena ask you to do it?"

Stefan hesitated for a moment, then answered, "Yes." Probably meant Damon had done the actual deed, but splitting hairs over details seemed pointless.

Dean frowned. Didn't seem right stealing a guy's memories even if they were painful – would have ended someone with extreme prejudice if they'd tried to take any of his memories about Mom … even the final one. But Vicki had not only died young and violently, she'd done it while transformed into something Jeremy probably hadn't even known existed before she'd attacked. A lot for a kid still reeling from the loss of both parents to handle. Might have made the same call if it had been Sammy traumatized, but ... "Don't suppose you gave him a choice?"

"I … don't know." So Damon had done it.

"Peachy," he sighed.

"Are you going to kill my brother?" The question startled Dean. Not so much the words, but the tone. It was almost … hopeful? Then again the family journals had mentioned more than once the messed up relationship between the two brothers. All over some chick-vamp named Katherine, but 145 years was a long time to carry a grudge.

"Dude, you ever consider couples' counseling? Cause I've got way too much fucking family drama of my own to deal with your shit, too." For one thing, he was lying to Sam right now. Sure, only by omission, but he'd have kicked the kid's ass if he'd tried to use that sort of lame excuse, so he knew he was in the wrong. But he also knew this would freak Sam out and Dean kind of needed some time to make peace with it himself before he had to help Sammy cope. Didn't make it right, but it was the best he could do for now. 

He sighed. "I'm not into proactive hunting, so clean slate for both of you." He clenched his fist, crushing the milk carton. "But after tonight, I'll do my job."

Stefan nodded and turned back toward Elena's house apparently intent on resuming his vigil. Kind of hysterical since the only real threat in town – Damon – seemed to care about Elena and wasn't likely to attack her. But whatever got a dude through the night.

The vampire stopped, but didn't turn back around to face him. "Sometimes I really hate my brother, but I don't want him dead. Be easier if I did."

Yeah, no doubt of that. "He stops killing, you've got no worries from me." He'd no more stake a vampire for feeding on blood than he would a human for chowing down on a good burger. But a vampire didn't need to kill his meal donor. Blood banks or, in a pinch, careful feeding and mind wiping the incident could do the trick. So yeah, no more deaths. And Dean knew he'd carry the guilt for his part in the ones that had already happened for the rest of his unnaturally long life. "Beyond that he's your problem."

"Perhaps yours even then."

"Huh?"

"Damon likes beautiful things," Stefan said.

"I don't follow."

Stefan gave him a long look. "He handles things three ways – killing, drinking and fucking. Think about it."

Dean stared at him and wondered if he'd ever be able to think about anything else again.

*

Damon greeted the dawn with a sense of … confusion? Disquiet? He'd lived on the need to make his brother's life a living hell for so long he found it difficult to cope with other feelings. In the beginning he'd been able to shut everything else out – the infamous 'off switch' every vampire had. Made it easier to prey on old friends or to watch them age and die. Not that Damon would know much about friends.

The ones he'd had before his death had either been killed in the Civil War or turned against him when he'd decided to abandon the Confederate cause in favor of winning Katherine. But he'd had his dear, sweet little brother for companionship. Sometimes he got caught up in those memories. Sometimes he remembered how much he had loved Stefan and some of the hate would ebb.

He watched the sun's rays slowly begin to touch the water and the greenery around him. Damon always came here when the love began to chip away at the hate. Always came back to the quarry where angelic, perfect Stefan had forced him to complete his transition into a vampire. Damon had been determined to die that day, but Stefan had brought a woman to him, made her bleed and Damon had been unable to resist the maddening hunger. He always wondered how that fit in with Stefan's sterling reputation. Damon had been the one determined to die, but Stefan had made certain they'd both turned. Made Damon want to kill him every time Stefan played the 'so much better than you' card.

So yes, he always came back here when he felt the need to reclaim his focus, but it hadn't worked lately. Oh, the hate was still there, the need to make Stefan miserable, yet he couldn't chase away the less useful emotions. Like guilt over Vicki. And something … elusive for Elena. Something that grew the more different she seemed from Katherine. If he was falling in love with her shouldn't it be the other way around?

Damon sighed, standing. Brooding was too damned boring. Couldn't imagine why Stefan seemed to want to spend so much time doing it. He smiled slightly. Stefan. Today was his baby brother's birthday which meant there should be plans to disrupt and let him get back on track with his 'make Stefan's life a misery' plan. And if his brother's usual birthday visitor put in an appearance, Damon might find an opportunity to further a more useful plan.

*

The sounds of waves crashing on a beach pulled Sam from the middle of a dream. He groaned softly and hit the off button on his alarm. He was enough of a morning person he could use something non-jarring to wake him – Dean had to resort to a loud AC/DC rift followed by a gallon of coffee – but nothing changed the fact that an alarm of any kind sucked on a Saturday morning. Especially when it was for early morning soccer practice, not a game.

Huge part of him wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, to play the lazy teen until someone dragged his ass out of bed. Nothing less than the deal all his friends had. But Dean had one rule about soccer – he'd be Sam's number one fan, go to all of his games, play chauffer when needed, but if Sam wanted to be on the team, he needed to take responsibility for his own schedule and getting himself ready to go. Somehow it seemed petty to sulk about it, especially since Andy's mom was picking him up and Dean could sleep in if he wasn't trying to nag Sam to get ready, but sometimes. ... Sometimes it was just one more thing that made Sam's life different from his friends' and their parents, who did all of it for them.

Yeah, his life sucked. Dean did everything for him right up to and including not going out for the football team like Sam knew he'd wanted to because there were conflicts between the football and soccer schedules. Feeling like a world-class tool, he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

A quick shower to chase away the last of his desire to go back to sleep, then he pulled on his uniform. He'd moved fast enough he had about ten minutes left before Andy and his mom showed up, and he found himself drifting toward Dean's room. Sam still couldn't shake how … weighed down his brother had looked last night. Even though he'd let Dean distract him, the worry had followed Sam into his dreams, and he found himself reluctant to leave.

Torn between letting Dean sleep and wanting to speak to him, Sam stood in the doorway staring at the figure on the bed. Like it always did, his gaze fell heavily enough on Dean to make him stir. His cue to look away, but he ignored it.

A moment later, Dean lifted up off his belly enough to look at Sam. "Somethin' wrong?"

Same stare-wake-what? routine they'd had since Sam was old enough to remember, so he could tell the sleepy-eyed part of it was missing. Dean didn't look freshly awake or his usual half-dead-on-his-feet when he didn't sleep well. So he'd been faking sleeping, but didn't want Sam to know he'd been awake for at least a couple of hours. The worry grew in the pit of his stomach, but Dean could be kind of closed-mouth about his own issues. "I was … thinking about ditching the barbeque at Andy's. Wanna hang out and watch movies? Maybe get a pizza?" Inwardly he flinched since he'd described their usual Sunday minus the homework marathon.

"Sure, Sammy, but tomorrow," Dean said, sitting up and looking concerned. "You go hang with your friends today."

Sam couldn't stop himself from launching toward the bed. He landed next to Dean with enough force to make the whole frame rock. "Sammy!" Dean bellowed, but didn't fight when Sam basically snuggled up against him.

He buried his face in Dean's side, then muttered, "I'mworriedaboutyou."

Dean stiffened for a moment, then his arm slid around Sam's shoulders. "Hey, man, you've got that turned around. 's my job to worry about you."

Sam drew back enough to glare at him. "Doesn't mean I can't look after you, too."

Dean hesitated like he figured it kind of did, but said, "Maybe, but you don't need to."

"But … you're all alone." It's what really got to Sam. His brother did so much and never had anyone he could lean on. Or at least anyone he'd allow himself to lean on.

"Nah, I've got you."

"Not what I'm talking about." He sighed. "You don't have anybody to … feel good with."

Dean got it. Probably because Sam could feel himself blush. "Oh, hell no. Sam, I'm not talking about my love life with you."

Dean's 'let it go' voice was firmly in play, but Sam couldn't. Not when he'd finally found the courage to talk and didn't know when he'd get it back again. "That's the problem; I know you don't have one to talk about."

Dean blushed this time, something Sam seldom saw, but it proved he was right. Not that he'd had any real doubts. "Sam, I-"

"I know you're the only gay guy in town," Sam insisted. "You shouldn't be, but you are."

It offended all rules of logic. Ten percent of the population was supposed to be gay, but for some reason Dean was the only one in Mystic Falls. It didn't make sense at all especially given the town wasn't a bastion of homophobia or anything, but not much about this town followed the rules. "And I don't want you sitting at home alone when you're feeling down."

Dean sighed, gave Sam a long look, then muttered, "Maybe I'm not."

"Down? No way I'm buying that, Dean. I know what I saw last night and I'm not letting it go today."

The glare fixed on him was equal parts exasperation and 'you so don't know,' but again, not backing down. "Not. The. Only. Gay. Guy."

"What? Who?"

"Damon Salvatore." He flashed Sam his best reassuring smile. "Put the moves on me last night. Sort of. Anyway, kind of rattled me, but I'm going to give him a call soon as it gets to be a decent hour." At that he gave Sam a glare.

Sam answered with an unrepentant grin, because of all the things he thought might have been behind Dean's mood that hadn't even made the list. "So maybe I should spend the night at Andy's?"

"Christ, Sam, we don't even have an official date," he protested, his blush bright enough to radiate heat.

"Yeah, and around here that means I shouldn't wait up."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Maybe I'm saving myself for my wedding night."

He laughed, Dean pounced and they had a take-no-prisoners tickle fight that left Sam wheezing with laughter by the time he stumbled out to Mrs. Gallagher's car.

*

Dean finished getting dressed and tried to remember the last time he'd wished it was a school day instead of one of his beloved Saturday mornings. He wanted to settle down on the sofa with a big bowl of sugary sweet cereal and watch some of the stuff the DVR had snagged during the week. Hell, he wanted to be in his bed, sound asleep with hours to go before he staggered downstairs.

Usually a violation of his normal routine meant it was one of those rare times when Andy's mom couldn't haul the kids to soccer practice. Or worse, an early morning game. Dean never missed one of those to make up for all of the times Dad ended up too hungover to go. But today? Neither applied.

He'd sat on the porch swing all night, and if he'd ever nodded off, no one could prove it by him. Instead he'd spent the time brooding. And maybe he'd shed a couple tears along the way. All done in a very manly fashion, of course. He'd not gone back upstairs until he'd heard his brother's alarm. He'd used some of his sneaky-older-brother skills to slip around Sam's morning routine and dive into bed before he worried the kid. He'd even almost managed to fall asleep to the sounds of Sammy banging around getting ready for practice.

Should have known the kid wouldn't fall for it, but how the hell Sam had gotten him to say all that shit about Salvatore, Dean would never know. And he felt bad, too, because stretching the truth went right up there with omissions on the list of 'yeah, call it what you want, but it's still all lies.' Or was it?

He sighed and snagged his keys on the way out the door. Damon had intrigued him the first time Dean had spotted him across the school yard, and yesterday Damon had ramped things up some despite everything. Then Stefan had planted an idea in his head and Dean couldn't shake it. Hell, if he hadn't known hunters were naturally immune to vampire compulsions, he'd have bet money he'd missed Stefan mojoing him. Shit. Been keeping company with his own right hand for far too long.

Well, no way he could simply go with this flow. He needed advice and badly. Only one person in the whole damned town he could turn to, even if the embarrassment factor would probably kill him. Normally he would have walked, but he had errands to run afterwards, so he drove the couple of blocks to Sheila Bennett's house. The woman had been his grandma's best friend, Sam's guru and was one of Dean's favorite people. Hell, if Dad had died before Grandma, Miz Sheila would probably have ended up their guardian, but he hadn't and John Winchester hadn't been one of her fans.

Never been certain what that had been all about. Dean had always made it a point to stay out of the middle of all the family and pseudo-family drama. He avoided the shouting matches and looked after Sam – unless Sam and Dad were going at it, then he headed for the hills until it was time to mop up the mess.

He rang the doorbell. Miz Sheila opened it with a smile. "Well, well, well, not the usual Winchester to darken my door, but quite the pleasant surprise."

"Hey, Miz Sheila," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Her smile faded at the touch, and she drew back to give him a concerned look. "Oh, my, we have a few things to talk about."

"Yeah, afraid so." While he made tea for both of them, he told her about what happened with Vicki and didn't leave out the part about his avoidance issues up until that moment.

She patted his hand. "I know the burden of guilt can be a heavy one, but you had the right to grow up."

He shook his head. "I'm a hunter. I should have done something."

"No, baby. It's called a curse for a reason, and you had no obligation to trigger it, let alone while you're still so young. And Damon Salvatore is quite the handful." She frowned. "Taking him on could prove a fatal mistake."

Yeah, he'd thought about that. A lot. Technically, since his mother's death, Dean had possessed the genetic memory of every Campbell hunter who had ever existed. It meant he knew everything every one of them had known about fighting supernatural creatures – including the muscle memory for all the needed moves. He'd even trained through the years, trying to push theory into true movement. But it had all been about human perspective and limitations. He really wanted time to adjust to things with the upgrades to his senses, speed and strength. Time Damon was unlikely to give him if he saw Dean as a threat. "About that … There might be a way to handle him that doesn't involve one of us dead in a ditch."

Her eyebrows rose. "I'm listening."

"He …" Dean blushed again and damn, he hated that! Done it more today than he had in years. Made things extra humiliating. "Last night … well, he sort of came on to me."

She stared at him a moment, then made a scoffing sound. "That vampire is the worst sort of flirt. You shouldn't pay him no mind."

"Kind of what I was figuring until his brother showed up." Damn Stefan anyway. And somehow he managed to blush even hotter as he told her about Stefan's solution to their Damon-woes.

Once he'd finished, she gave him that long considering look she used when evaluating something. Sam had developed some immunity to it what with being sort of her apprentice-witch-in-training – especially since Grandma's death -- but Dean always had to fight the urge to squirm. And the subject didn't help. But he was so damned tired of being alone. The thought of something for himself was attractive enough to make him uncertain of his own judgment. He needed someone to tell him he was crazy. To stop thinking with his downstairs brain and get real.

For once she disappointed him. "It might work."

He didn't even try to hide his shock, and she smirked. "Honey, that old saying about making love not war came from somewhere."

He stared at her then flushed. Again. This was getting so freaking old. "Jesus, aren't you supposed to be telling me to protect my virtue? Not to mention to stay away from big bad vampires?"

"There's a reason I never became a momma, baby," she answered. "Besides, I'm not getting the feeling you want me to tell you to stay away."

"I … don't know," he admitted. "I'm kind of tired of being the only almost-eighteen-year-old virgin in this town."

She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. "Now, you be careful here. Damon Salvatore has an ego as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. You go to him for a tumble because he's the only one who's interested and you're just asking for trouble."

Dean flushed again. He hadn't wanted to admit …, but the way she was looking at him sort of broke him. "I … liked his eyes."

"His eyes."

He nodded. "He came to the school a few weeks back. Apparently he didn't even notice me." That still stung since the sight of the vampire had stopped Dean in his tracks. Well, for a second or two. "But I liked his eyes." And the rest of him. Vampire was handsome, with a trim muscular build and the sort of smile that made something in the pit of Dean's stomach flutter. "I'm kind of afraid that might be the reason … I held off. On the staking thing."

"He was a fine looking man," she agreed. "Could even have been part of what made you reluctant, but at most it's a small part of what stayed your hand." Her hands reached up to cup his face. "Thought of being alone scares you to death, and watching your brother grow old, then pass? Gonna be a special kind of hell for you."

His eyes teared up at her words and he bit his lip.

"See? You're just a baby with a belly full of demons making you want to stay human. No need to look further than that." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then wiped away his tears. "And don't you go fretting about years from now and lose today. You hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he sniffed, but felt better. "Still don't know what to do about Damon."

"Can't tell you want to do. Gotta be your decision, but do it for you not as some scheme of his brother's. He won't know how to kill you, but you don't tend to value your own life as much as others."

Dean got her drift and had seen this movie. More than once. "Got it. Tell him right off and avoid the pre-commercial break meltdown."

She gave him another kiss, then stood up. "I've got a garden to tend. You just sit here a spell and do all the thinking you want. Then maybe go on home and chew on it for a few more days. Nothing says you have to decide anything this morning."

Yeah, nothing did. And somehow it made the decision a whole lot easier.

*

Damon took his time walking home. But when he got there all thoughts of tormenting Stefan and his BFF, Lexi, vanished at the sight of a pretty young thing with gorgeous green eyes.

The hunter stood in the driveway staring at their house. Interesting. No attempt to hide himself and no visible weapons. Not that he couldn't have something literally up his sleeve, but a brand-new baby hunter usually went for heavily armed versus subtle.

Damon turned on the speed. Favorite trick of most vampires – move faster than the eye could really follow, then stop suddenly. Made it seem like appearing out of thin air. Except Dean turned and looked right at him the moment before he stopped. "Killjoy."

The hunter shrugged, a small smile making him look even prettier. "Sort of depends on your point of view, doesn't it?"

"Never had much time for one other than my own," he smirked. "So you do know taking me on will be more difficult than a two-day-old vampire?"

"Not here to try."

"Oh, really?" Intrigued he inched closer, but stayed alert for any movement signaling impending attack. "Then what brings such a lovely stalker to my front door?"

"Am I?"

"What? A stalker?"

"Lovely."

Better and better. "Where you going with this, kid?" 

He scowled obviously not liking the 'kid' thing. Wonder how he'd take it when Damon started calling him pretty baby? "Dean," he reminded him. "My name's Dean Winchester."

"So you said last night," he answered, "so where you going with this, Dean?"

The kid sighed and ran his hand through dark blond hair that Damon's fingers fairly itched to touch. "Fuck if I know, but. …"

"But?"

He nodded, then he said, "Your brother said you might want me."

Oh? _My, my Stefan what are you up to?_ "He did, did he?"

Dean glanced downward. "He thought you might be more interested in fucking me, than killing people." He worried his bottom lip with straight white teeth making the plump flesh glisten.

Growing anger aside, the sight made Damon shift closer. "What else did my dear brother suggest?"

The kid looked puzzled. "Nothing. Jeez, isn't that enough?"

"Hmm, so are you here to offer yourself up as a virgin sacrifice to save the town from little old me?"

"No! I want to save them, I'll stake your ass. I just like your eyes."

The irritation had Damon leaning toward believing him, but he couldn't help poking him a little more. "Ah, so do you daydream about staring into my eyes as I push inside of you?"

Dean blushed a bright crimson, then groaned, "Shit, could you make it sound more girly?" And oh, yes, this one was telling the truth. He might just have to send Stefan a fruit basket instead of stabbing him in the liver.

"Dean," he asked, leaning as close as he dared without kicking in a 'fight or flight' response, "have you ever even been kissed?"

The near-shyness returned, and he muttered, "A couple of girls."

"Enough to know they aren't what you want?"

He nodded, and looked up at him through his eyelashes.

"In that case, I may have noticed you before," Damon said, closing in until only a few inches separated them. "And I would very much like to give you your first proper kiss."

Dean stared up the inch separating their heights, then shifted so their chests pressed lightly together. After a moment, his head tilted back, offering his mouth.

He brushed his own lips across Dean's, a gentle tease to draw the pretty boy in. A firmer touch rewarded the way Dean pressed closer, arms encircling Damon's neck.

His own arms tightened around Dean's waist, and he slid his tongue into the kid's mouth with a firm, but easy motion. His beautiful virgin moaned and their tongues began to dance together. Nice, very nice. The hardness growing against his thigh was even nicer. "You want to come from this?" he asked, shifting to nuzzle Dean's ear, his hands sliding down to cup Dean's ass. "From my kissing you?"

He tightened his grip, coaxing Dean to lift up and wrap his legs around Damon's hips. "Want more," he panted into Damon's ear.

"Then hang on, beautiful," he said. Dean's limbs tightened around him, Damon took off toward the house at a run, then one second later they landed on his bed. It took him less time than that to get them both stripped off. Neat dusky rose nipples seemed to call to him, and Damon leaned down to suck on the left one.

Dean gasped, arched into the touch and came, but between his youth and hunter stamina, he stayed rock hard. "Please," he groaned, his legs squeezing.

"You know how this works?" God, he hoped so. Not at all in the mood for a 'it goes where!?!' freak-out.

"I can use the damn Internet," Dean said with an indignant glare, then pushed his groin against Damon's to get things back on track.

Damon resisted the mood-breaking impulse to roll his eyes. "Not taking you dry." At least not the first time. Later? Well, a hunter's healing abilities made all sorts of things possible. He reached out and caught hold of the bedside table's drawer, then yanked it open. With a huff of triumph he pulled out a tube of lube.

Knowing he couldn't compel this one into forgetting a bad experience or kill him, Damon took his time preparing Dean. Not that the little brat seemed to appreciate the gesture. Instead Dean squirmed, pouted and generally did anything he could think of to hurry things along. Finally Damon's free hand shot out and gave him a hard swat on the side of the ass.

Dean yelped, then glared at him.

"Settle down," he ordered. "Or I'll put you over my knee and give your ass a whole different sort of attention."

He went very still, his face caught somewhere between outrage and interest. Another thought to file away for a different day, and as he slid a third finger into Dean's tight heat, Damon found himself marveling at having future plans at all. Useful minions like Caroline aside, he was much more a one-fuck-stand sort of vampire.

Dean started moaning and squirming again. Probably as ready as he could get him, so Damon distracted him with a kiss, then eased his cock into the loosened channel.

Hands clutched at his shoulders, green eyes widened and full lips parted in something like surprise. All made everything in Damon scream to slam into him, but he fought his instinct and continued the slow glide into Dean. Once fully sheathed, he made himself pause, giving the kid time to adjust to the, if Damon did say so himself, considerable girth filling him.

After a few moments, Dean arched up against him, saying one word, "Move." Damon complied with a steady, slow rhythm that prompted Dean to hiss, "I'm a freaking hunter. Won't break."

True enough. He took the hint, putting more speed and strength into each thrust, until he was going almost flat out, something he'd never dared before with a non-vampire partner. At least not with one with any hope of surviving the climax. But Dean matched him, doing his best to ravish while being ravished. They both pushed each other to, then over the brink of a near heart-stopping climax.

*

Dean tucked a soft towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom into Damon's bedroom. Didn't surprise him to find it empty. Damned lucky the vampire had let him shower before kicking him to curb.

He sighed. Couldn't regret the last couple of hours – and hey, nice surprise finding out the rapid healing of both vampires and hunters meant almost zero refractory time. But he'd absolutely lost all claims to virgin status. Pretty much meant he was back to a zero on the intriguing stakes. Which meant he'd have to admit to Sammy he'd oversold the whole 'potential boyfriend' thing as well as tell him he'd become a hunter and one day people would think Dean was Sam's grandson, not his older brother.

Closing his eyes against the pain he knew this would cause Sammy, he wished with everything he had that he could go back to the parking lot and find another way to save Elena. Hell, Damon still might have found him worth a tumble without the hunter stamina so it wouldn't cost him a damned thing beyond an immediate future seeing puppy eyes fill with tears. Fuck. He clenched his fists against the thought, but the jangle of his cell announcing a text tumbling into his inbox disrupted his efforts. He picked up the annoying thing and read _you k?_

Sometimes Dean could swear his little brother had some sort of psychic connection to him, then he blushed thinking of the last hours. God, he hoped Sam was unaware of what his brother had been up to. He shoved the thought out of his mind, then decided he'd better call before Sammy got too worried.

Sure enough a split-second after he hit send, a familiar voice answered, "Dean?"

"Hey, kid, how'd practice go?" he asked and started looking for his discarded clothing.

"Good," he said in the same tone used by kids everywhere. Dean swore they must all take some sort of course to make sure they all did it exactly alike. "You got a date?"

Faced with the choice of lying flat out or a whitewash, Dean decided to get out the paint bucket, "Well, we talked –"

A whooshing, then strong muscle pressed against his back. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Damon murmured and nuzzled Dean's neck.

Dean tried to choke off a whining sound.

"Dean?" Sam reminded him this was in the running for most awkward moment ever.

"Um … yeah. What were you saying?" he hissed, then yelped when with a yank and a flick of the wrist Damon sent his towel flying.

There was utter silence on the other end for a second, then Sam snickered. "Dean, are you with the guy now?"

Damon plucked the phone out of Dean's grasp. "Sam? Damon Salvatore."

Oh, fuck. This couldn't be good.

"Hi," he could hear Sam answer, his laughter giving way to his interested voice.

"We're having such a good time I thought I might keep your brother out past curfew. You got a place to stay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. You have a good time, and I'll look forward to meeting you soon."

"Me, too," he answered and proved he could take a hint. "Bye."

"Bye," Damon said, then tossed the phone in the general direction of the towel.

Dean thought about cussing the bastard out, but Damon shifted his weight, pushing inside of him.

"You had something to say, beautiful?"

"Um, no?" he answered, shoving backwards to get the vampire moving.

"Good answer," Damon laughed, and set about giving him a hard pounding. Made him come fast and with enough force to see stars.

Fluid filled him for the … hell, he'd lost track of how many times, then Damon lifted him up and around to carry him back to the bed. Once he had Dean flat on his back, he began kissing him all over. "Such a bastard," Dean sighed.

"No," Damon murmured, nuzzling his neck. "My parents were married."

Dean rolled his eyes, then gave Damon a little shove when he felt the light nip of fangs against the join of neck and shoulder. "Hey, no biting on the first date."

"You are no fun," he said, but rolled, pulling Dean to rest on top of him. "Kind of cuddly, though."

Dean smacked him on the arm because that was the closest thing to his hand, and he seriously felt too comfortable to move.

"Ow!"

"Big baby," he murmured, drifting toward sleep.

"I'm not a pillow."

"Are, too. Cuddly one."

Damon snorted. "Whatever." He began gently rubbing Dean's back. "Get some rest. I want to wear you out again."

Dean smiled against his chest. "Got plans for me?"

"Yeah." He huffed a short laugh. "Much as I hate to admit it, my brother knows me fairly well, so I'm down with the whole 'fuck instead of fight' plan." His hand shifted to cup Dean's ass.

"Nope, closed for business for the next three hours. Minimum."

Another puff of laughter. "Go to sleep, kid. The grownup needs some quiet time."

"'kay," Dean murmured. He didn't know what the future would bring. Hell, he didn't even know what would happen when he woke up, but he drifted off without care. And his dreams were sweet.

end


End file.
